100 Themes by Bookwormlady
by bookwormlady
Summary: Taken from a challenge on the BY. 100 Themes, all over the map genre-wise. Rated T as a precaution. Spoilers up to latest episodes - you've been warned!
1. The Themes

**A/N: Yeah, I know I need to be working on "The Retaliation of the Accomplice," but I started this for the BY and I decided to transport it here as well. **

**There will be all kinds of stuff here - fluff, angst, absolutely silly - everything except M-rated stuff (don't write it). **

**There will be spoilers - I'll try to warn you before each chapter!**

**Let me know what you think of it! This first chapter lists the themes, and we'll go from there. I will not be writing these in order, just bear with me.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Bones, but I've been totally blown away by the first two eps of the season!**

**100 THEMES CHALLENGE**

1. Introduction 2. Love 3. Light 4. Dark

5. Seeking Solace 6. Break Away 7. Heaven 8. Innocence

9. Drive 10. Breathe Again 11. Memory 12. Insanity

13. Misfortune 14. Smile 15. Silence 16. Questioning

17. Blood 18. Rainbow 19. Gray 20. Fortitude

21. Vacation 22. Mother Nature 23. Cat 24. No Time

25. Trouble Lurking 26. Tears 27. Foreign 28. Sorrow

29. Happiness 30. Under the Rain 31. Flowers 32. Night

33. Expectations 34. Stars 35. Hold My Hand 36. Precious Treasure

37. Eyes 38. Abandoned 39. Dreams 40. Rated

41. Teamwork 42. Standing Still 43. Dying 44. Two Roads

45. Illusion 46. Family 47. Creation 48. Childhood

49. Stripes 50. Breaking the Rules 51. Sport 52. Deep in Thought

53. Keeping a Secret 54. Tower 55. Waiting 56. Danger Ahead

57. Sacrifice 58. Kick in the Head 59. No Way Out 60. Rejection

61. Fairy Tale 62. Magic 63. Do Not Disturb 64. Multitasking

65. Horror 66. Traps 67. Playing the Melody 68. Hero

69. Annoyance 70. 67% 71. Obsession 72. Mischief Managed

73. I Can't 74. Are You Challenging Me? 75. Mirror

76. Broken Pieces 77. Test 78. Drink 79. Starvation

80. Words 81. Pen and Paper 82. Can You Hear Me? 83. Heal

84. Out Cold 85. Spiral 86. Seeing Red 87. Food

88. Pain 89. Through the Fire 90. Triangle 91. Drowning

92. All That I Have 93. Give Up 94. Last Hope 95. Advertisement

96. In the Storm 97. Safety First 98. Puzzle 99. Solitude 100. Relaxation


	2. Abandoned

**A/N: Slight spoilers for "The Princess in the Pear."**

**Disclaimer: Nope, not mine.**

**ABANDONED**

Booth stood still, afraid to move, not quite believing what had just happened.

Bones and Perotta had both left him there. They'd abandoned him, each thinking they were intruding. Left him wondering if any movement would cause him to fall on the floor, writhing in pain.

He had to admit that Bones' leaving upset him more than Perotta's doing so (though the chili had smelled good). Bones knew the pain he'd been in – she'd made it worse when she tried to crack his back the last time. How did she know he was okay now?

Booth cautiously turned his head from side to side. His cell phone was out of reach, sitting on the coffee table along with his medication.

Well, he couldn't very well stand there in the middle of his apartment all night, could he? Bones said she'd fixed him – and she wouldn't have left if she thought he was still in pain, right?

The FBI agent took a deep breath and took a cautious step.

No pain.

He took another step, waiting for his back to protest.

Nothing.

Booth relaxed, and started to walk normally. He'd call Bones, thank her –

He stumbled over the bowling pin he'd left on the floor.

His torso twisted.

The pain came back.

Booth dropped to his knees, groaning. Okay, he was almost fixed.

But he wasn't going to call anyone. Nope, Perotta and Bones left him to deal with it on his own, and he would. He'd be fine.

Now, where was that Vicodin?


	3. Broken Pieces

**A/N: Spoilers for "The Skull in the Sculpture."**

**I have to admit, I feel slightly sorry for Daisy sometimes...**

**BROKEN PIECES**

What was _wrong _with her?

She knew people sometimes dismissed her as unintelligent, in spite of the fact she had a 3.91 grade point average in Dr. Brennan's course.

And you couldn't ignore the fact that Dr. Brennan had picked her, along with a handful of other students, to work at the Jeffersonian under her personal guidance. She wouldn't pick a stupid person.

The reason people didn't take her seriously, according to Lance, was her personality. "They don't expect smart people to be so…bubbly," he said.

Well, what was wrong with being enthusiastic, exuberant, happy with life? Not everyone could be so serious like Dr. Brennan.

She'd tried to hard to impress her mentor, her – dare she think it – idol.

Then she had to go and shatter the skull.

She recalled the horror that welled up in her as the pieces of bone fell to the floor. The shocked looks on both Dr. Saroyan's and Dr. Brennan's faces at the disaster.

And even though she'd apologized all over the place and offered to fix it, Dr. Brennan brushed her aside.

Daisy knew she was smart.

So why couldn't she act like it when it was important?


	4. Dark

**A/N: One with Booth/Parker fluff. What's not to love?**

**Disclaimer: Hart Habnson owns 'em. He's doing a good job, too.**

**DARK**

"Daddy? Daddy, wake up Daddy!"

Booth's eyes snapped open, the horrors he'd just been forced to relive fading away to be replaced by the face of his son.

It took the FBI agent a moment to refocus. He wasn't on the battlefield, watching everyone he cared about gunned down; watching as he screamed and tried to save them, but unable to, being held back by the ghosts of those he'd killed.

He was in his darkened bedroom, sweat coating his body, his breath coming in gasps, Parker kneeling next to him.

"What – what's up, Parker?" he managed to ask.

The little boy frowned. "You were screaming names. And you said "No" a lot." Parker looked at him closely. "Were you having a bad dream?"

Booth took another deep breath. "Yeah…yeah, a pretty bad dream, little man. Sorry I woke you."

Parker stroked Booth's arm, his brow furrowed in concentration. "Do you wanna tell me about it? Mom says talking about your dreams makes them less scary."

Inwardly, Booth cringed. Tell his son about this dream? Tell him about the men and women he killed, how he watched the blood spurt from their wounds, how they haunted him sometimes, like tonight…?

He took a deep breath. "Mom's right, Parker. But…I can't talk to you about this dream."

"Why not?"

"Well," Booth said, running a hand through his dark hair. "It's just that…this dream is about grown-up things. Things you don't need to know about."

Parker frowned. "But I wanna help you. I'll be brave, Dad, I promise."

"I know you would, buddy," Booth said, stroking the blond hair that Rebecca refused to cut, "but I can't. I appreciate the offer, though."

The little boy gave out a frustrated sigh. "Okay then."

To Booth's surprise, Parker lay down next to him, wrapping an arm around Booth's chest. His lips close to Booth's ear, the little boy began to sing, "A, B, C, D, E, F, G…"

Booth couldn't help grinning. "Parker? What are you doing?"

In the dimness of the room he saw the boy roll his eyes. "Well, when I have a bad dream, you or Mommy listen to me tell you about it, then you hold me and sing to me until I can go back to sleep."

"Right…" Booth said, the grin melting into a smile.

"So you don't wanna tell me about the dream, but I can still hold you and sing to you, right?"

Booth blinked back sudden tears and squeezed his son. "You sure can, buddy, and it'll be a huge help."

"Okay," Parker said, and resumed singing into Booth's ear, hugging his dad for all he was worth.

Smiling, Booth closed his eyes. Sometimes, his thoughts and dreams were dark. Tonight, the darkness would be held at bay by the bright candle that was his son's love.


	5. Rainbow

**RAINBOW**

**A/N: I don't know where this idea came from, but it works for me. Brennan does have the capability to comfort others, even if her methods aren't quite ours. **

**Disclaimer: Let's see, do I own this show? *checks mess in office* Nope, show's not here. Have you checked the Lost and Found?**

**Timeline: Takes place in Season 4, sometime soon after Angela and Roxie break up.**

Angela stared at the blank piece of paper in front of her. She struggled to come up with something – anything! – that would inspire her to pick up a pencil and begin to draw.

Art was her gift. It was also her way to cope with a world that was not always beautiful, a world that sometimes broke her heart…

She sighed, letting the pencil fall on the paper. Her eyes shifted to the skull that Brennan had given her, the tissue markers all set up and ready for her to work her magic with.

Angela looked at the picture next to the skull. She was smiling, oblivious to dark days and dark moods. Next to her, with a smile as large, Roxie, her arms around the artist.

That finished off any desire to work. Angela shut her eyes, her mood as dark as the rainclouds that had greeted her upon awakening. The rain had pounded on her umbrella, water splashed over the top of her boots and onto her knees.

And then she'd run into Hodgins. She'd appreciated his comforting her – sex with him was always amazing – but he wanted to make it more than what it was. It wasn't like she didn't care about him, but why couldn't he just be happy with being friends-with-benefits?

And what was wrong with her? Would her life always be like this? Alone, her only purpose in life to put faces on dead people?

She wiped a self-pitying tear from her eye.

"Angela?"

The artist looked up to see Brennan standing in the doorway. Her face was creased in concern. "Is everything all right?"

Angela tried to smile but failed miserably. "Depends on how you define "everything," sweetie."

Brennan cocked her head. "I have the impression that you aren't very happy at the moment."

"What was your first clue?" Angela said with a watery chuckle.

"Well, you've barely spoken to anyone, nor have you smiled at all, You're shoulders are slumped…"

"All right, all right," Angela said, throwing her hands in the air. "Look, Bren, no offense? Right now my life pretty much stinks, and I just want to sit here and wallow in self-pity for about a year, okay?"

Brennan sighed, her gaze traveling around the cluttered office. She glanced out the window and, eyes widening, she went over to look at something.

"Ange?" she asked, "Can you come look at this?"

With a sigh, Angela dragged herself out of her chair and joined her friend. "What?" she said.

Brennan pointed at the sky. The rain had stopped. A brilliant rainbow arced in the gray-blue sky. Angela could detect a second, fainter bow above the first.

"You know," Brennan said, "A rainbow is an optical and meteorological phenomenon that causes a spectrum of light to appear in the sky when the Sun shines onto droplets of moisture in the Earth's atmosphere…"

"Sweetie," Angela interrupted, "I really don't need a lecture on rainbows, okay?"

Brennan bit her lip. "It's just that I'm trying to say…" Brennan looked back at the rainbow. "…if we never had any rain on the planet, we'd never have rainbows, would we?"

Angela stared at her friend, running what she said in her head. Brennan returned her gaze, a look of alarm spreading over her face. "I'm doing this badly, aren't I? I'm sorry, I was just trying to help you like you and Booth help me all the time –"

Tears stung Angela's eyes again. She threw her arms around her friend. "You did help, sweetie, you did. I'm so lucky to have you as a friend!"

"I am glad I did help, Ange," Brennan said, returning the hug. "I'm also fortunate to have you as a friend."

Angela pulled back and looked back at the rainbow. "Look, I'm gonna get some pictures of this before it fades, okay? Then I'll work on the facial reconstruction."

"Of course, Angela," Brennan said with a smile. "I'm going to go back and work on the bones."

Angela nodded, grabbing her digital camera and going back to the window. The rainbow still shone, bright against the gray-blue sky. She raised her camera, and began to take several pictures, the picture she'd draw from them already forming in her mind. A smile began to play on her lips.

Yes, there was rain in her life now. But in time, there would be rainbows to enjoy.


	6. Dying

**A/N: This story comes from a very dark place. It scares me sometimes that I can write dark stuff...**

**Spoilers for "The Man in the Cell."**

**Disclaimer: Don't own the show. Do own the season 2 DVDs which came in handy for this chapter...**

* * *

**DYING**

He'd underestimated them.

Howard Epps was a little annoyed with himself. He'd been so looking forward to some quality time with the lovely Dr. Brennan.

Instead, he stood in the middle of her living room, with not one but TWO guns on him. Dr. Brennan and her gung-ho partner. Both had found him.

"One minute. All I want is one minute alone with you," Epps told her.

"Fine with me," she said confidently. He loved that fire in her. He'd so looked forward to playing with it, change it to a smoldering wick that he'd pinch out at just the right time…

"Don't provoke the lunatic, all right?" Booth said. To Epps, he said, "You've got nowhere to go."

Of course the muscle had to go and ruin things.

"I'm not going back to jail," Epps said. No way. If these two gave him the choice between jail and death, he'd take death. But he wanted to hurt them, first. Hurt them some way, some how…

Booth ordered him to raise his hands and drop his crowbar. Epps considered the options, knew there was only one thing to do. He flung the crowbar at the agent, and turned and dashed towards the balcony.

He heard the agent yell, "Line of fire, Bones!" Oh, wouldn't that be sweet? It would destroy her if she put a bullet in her partner. Epps dived over the metal railing, feeling his heart pound, his blood humming in his veins –

A rough hand grabbed his wrist. He looked up. Surprise, surprise. Booth had grabbed him. The agent's left hand tightly gripped the black metal of the balcony to keep himself from going over along with Epps.

"You're not getting away, Howard," Booth panted.

Epps felt a thrill of fear, but he relished it. Yes, he was going to die, but the feeling was incredible. "Look who the killer is now, Agent Booth."

Tears blurred the faces above him. Epps dropped his other hand and forced himself to go limp. Booth asked Dr. Brennan for help, but she couldn't reach Epps' arm.

"You're gonna drop me anyway," he told the agent. "Just get it over with."

Booth swore at him and Epps felt the grip around his wrist tighten slightly. He was impressed – he didn't think the agent capable of it. He felt the bones in his wrist grinding together from the pressure, the pain causing the tears to return.

"Are you saying you don't want me dead?" he rasped. He'd studied this man, knew he'd been a Ranger, a sniper. Knew he'd killed.

"Yeah," Booth said, his voice strained, "I'm not you."

Epps felt a thrill of victory that overrode the pain and fear. He'd scored a hit. He pushed the knife in a little deeper. "Oh really? You're not thinking of the world with me still in it?"

Booth's eyes darkened. Epps went for the kill. "Going after Dr. Brennan, your son –"

"I'm not you," Booth repeated, but his voice was weaker, the statement almost a prayer.

Epps felt the agent's hand shaking as he held the killer's wrist. Epps glanced once at their joined hands and then focused back on the agent's face. He watched the struggle in the man's face, even as the fear came back to him, the fear of the pain that was coming, one way or another –

And then he was falling. He got one last glimpse at the couple standing on the balcony. Dr. Brennan had grabbed her partner's arm to keep him from falling. But it was Booth's expression he focused on. He saw the horror there. He saw the doubt.

He'd pierced the self-rightous armor of Special Agent Seeley Booth.

And in the final second of his life, Howard Epps was a happy man.


	7. Seeing Red

**A/N: My apologies for another dark chapter. I promise the next one I do will be a bit more fluffy. **

**Warning: episode of child abuse described.**

**Disclaimer: I have enough to do at the moment without owning Bones...**

* * *

**SEEING RED**

"Pops?"

Hank frowned at the sound of his youngest grandson's whispered voice. "Jared? Is everything all right, son?"

"Pops –" Jared choked on a sob. "Pops, we broke a lamp."

With a frown, Hank walked over to his television set and turned off the game he was watching. "Are you hurt? Is Seeley?"

Another sob. "Daddy's coming home soon. When he gets home he's gonna be so mad…"

The fear in the child's voice squeezed Hank Booth's heart. It also troubled him. "Jared, I'm sure it was an accident. When you boys explain it –"

"No!" Jared said. 'He won't let us explain. Seeley told me to call you to come get me. He said he'd take all the blame. Please come get me – Daddy was already mad today and when he sees the lamp…" the child broke down.

_No_, Hank thought. His son Joe had a drinking problem, he knew that, anyone who'd _met_ the man knew that, but this…what this sounded like…

"I'm coming right now," Hank said. "You boys just wait right there. I'm coming right over."

As he drove towards his son's house Hank tried to reconcile what he'd heard with what he knew. His daughter-in-law Mary had died six months ago. A month later, his own wife Sara passed away following a bout with pneumonia. Since then he'd not seen much of Joe or the kids. His calls to the house were unanswered, and they stopped coming to Mass.

But even when Mary was alive, there'd been bruises, cuts…times when Seeley or Jared flinched if he gave one of them a friendly pat on the back. Mary herself seemed to have a lot of little "accidents."

Had he been blind? Had he let his own grieving close his eyes to what was going on? He prayed he was wrong. He wanted to badly to be wrong.

When he pulled up to his son's house, Hank saw Joe's Ford sedan parked crookedly in the driveway. Before he fully got out of the car he heard his son's voice raised in anger.

_"How dare you! You think I work and slave so you can go around destroying things?"_

The bushes by the front door moved and Jared came racing towards him, his face tear-streaked, his eyes wide with terror. "Stop him, Pops, please! He's hurting Seeley really bad this time!"

The words "this time" were like a knife to the heart for Hank. He took a moment to wrap his arms around his shaking grandchild. "Shh, it's okay Jared. Go sit in my car. I'll go see what's up."

Sniffling, Jared nodded. Hank hurried to the front door and yanked it open. Now he could hear the sound of flesh striking flesh, and Seeley's whimpered apologies and pleas.

He stepped into the family room and froze.

A lamp lay on the floor, its base shattered shards on the floor. Joe Booth, his face red, had his eleven year old son's shirt gripped in his fist, and was beating the child on the head and body with the other.

Seeley's head lolled. His dark eyes cracked open, and he saw Hank frozen on the spot. "Pops?" he whispered.

With a snarl, Joe Booth grabbed the child around the throat with his free hand. "Don't you dare say anything to your grandfather! He doesn't understand how terrible you are! What an ungrateful, disgusting son –"

As if he had reached a breaking point, Joe flung Seeley into the wall next to the television. The boy's body hit the wall so hard Hank swore he felt the house shake. The boy fell to the floor, where he lay unmoving.

For a horrible moment, Hank thought he'd witnessed the death of his grandson. Then he heard a low moan come from the boy.

"Shut up!" Joe yelled, taking a step towards the child.

At that instant, Hank Booth felt a rage he'd never experienced before. Not in the Army. Not against any human being. Certainly not against his own son.

His buddies in the army had spoken of "seeing red." Hank had dismissed it as nothing more than a saying. But at that moment, red seemed to tinge his vision, as if the blood visible on his grandson was now covering Hank's eyes.

Before he fully realized what he was doing, Hank bellowed out "_Joe_!" as he moved toward him.

His son turned around, his brown eyes slightly unfocused. "Dad?"

Hank got his hands on Joe's flannel shirt. He turned and shoved his son towards the door. Joe stumbled, barely keeping upright. "Dad, I don't know what you're doing –"

With a growl, Hank slammed his son into the wall, hands gripping Joes' shirt again so tightly he heard it tear. Joe's eyes widened, and Hank saw fear in them. With a bolt of shame, he realized he was _glad_ Joe was afraid.

"Get out of here," he snarled at his son.

"W-what?" Joe blinked.

Impatient, Hank slammed Joe into the wall again. "You don't deserve to be a father! Get out and you never lay a hand on these boys again. You hear me?"

"You…you can't make me leave," Joe sputtered.

"Oh yes, I can!" Hank shouted. "You get outta here – go take a walk or something. I'm taking Jared and Seeley home with me. When you come back, get your stuff and _leave_! I never want to see you again, do you hear me?"

Joe Booth's face grew hard. "Fine," he said, his words slurring slightly. "Take the brats. They're losers, just like you are, Dad."

Hank released his son and clasped his hands behind his back. He had to – he was afraid if he didn't he'd strike his son for what he saw.

Joe took a long look at his father. The two of them stood there, waiting to see what the other one would do. Then a low moan drifted in from the family room.

With an angry snort, Joe Booth turned on his heel and left the house.

Hank ran to his grandson. Seeley was trying to sit up. Blood from his nose and a split lip covered his face. He held a hand to his side, wincing.

Surprised he was capable of it after his violent confrontation with his son, Hank lay a gentle arm around Seeley's shoulders. "Easy Shrimp, just let me check you over."

"You're really here," Seeley whispered, looking at his grandfather with a look of awe and pain.

Hank felt a lump swell his throat. "Yes, I'm really here. I'm gonna see if you need to go to a hospital –"

"No!" Seeley burst out. "No hospital!"

"Easy, Shrimp." Yes, he was sure Joe made the kids afraid of hospitals. He took a deep breath to try to tamp down his anger. "Okay. Tell you what. Why don't you rest on the couch for a few minutes while Jared and I pack some stuff?"

"Where are we going?" Seeley asked. He groaned as Hank checked his torso. The poor kid was sore but it appeared nothing was broken. Hank sent up a silent prayer of gratitude to God for that.

"How about you guys stay with me for a while?" Hanks said, helping Seeley to his feet. The boy swayed and Hank gently supported him as they moved to the couch. "I'm kind of lonely and it would be great having the two of you around."

"Dad…." Seeley started, but Hank held up his hand to stop the boy.

"Your dad's okay with it," Hank said. "So you up for it?"

The look of relief on his grandson's face nearly brought tears to Hank's eyes. "That will be great." The child carefully lay back on the couch.

Before Hank got to the door, Seeley spoke up again. "Grandpa?"

"Yeah Shrimp?"

"Thanks. And when you get our stuff, don't let Jared tell you the Starsky and Hutch lunchbox is his. It's mine."

"All right, Shrimp," Hank smiled.

As he went outside to get Jared, Hank Booth prayed that he could be a far better father with his grandsons then he'd been with his son.


	8. Sorrow

**A/N: Umm....I'm sorry? Is there a statute of limitations on when fans can kill a writer for not updating? **

**But after episode 100 this just begged to be written...hope you like it and will accept it as an olive branch!**

**Disclaimer: No, I haven't been busy getting Bones. Still don't own it.**

* * *

**SORROW**

Dinner was a quiet affair between them. Awkward, at first, after those last emotional moments outside of the Hoover building.

Then Booth began to talk about Parker's soccer game the night before. Brennan perked up a little with that, and when their food came, she began stealing his fries just like always.

By the time dinner was over he could see she wasn't feeling quite so upset. That was good. He intentionally said things he knew she'd feel compelled to correct, just to get that glint in her eyes as she caught him smirking.

Things were almost back to normal as he walked Brennan to her door. She hesitated there, giving him a long look. "Booth…everything is okay, isn't it?"

He put all his effort into a broad smile, burying his cracking heart as he did so. "Yeah, Bones, everything's good."

Her smile was tinged with relief. "I'm glad…I don't want to work with anyone but you, Booth."

"Yeah," he got out, working to keep his voice from breaking. "Me too, Bones. You're the only squint I want to work with."

"Well…" she hesitated, then gave him a brief hug. "Good night, Booth."

"Good night, Bones."

He waited until he heard the locks on her door before he trudged back outside. He looked at his SUV, and the urge to get in and drive to the old pool hall swept over him for the first time in years. If not there, maybe Atlantic City, just to feel the dice in his hands…

But he wouldn't do it. Not because he didn't want to – standing there, under a starry sky, a slight breeze cooling his face, he wanted it more than anything – but because he didn't want to disappoint _her_. Giving in to that urge and her realizing it was because she broke his heart – it would hurt her.

And not hurting her was the whole point of his pain. He had wanted to push her harder in front of the Hoover – but he saw how much it was hurting her. The tears in those gray-blue eyes stopped him cold. He'd kill for her, he'd die for her, but if he could help it he wouldn't cause her needless pain.

With a heavy sigh he climbed into his car. He knew as much as he wanted to run someplace and lick his wounds, he had to stay. For her. Because she needed him as a partner, a friend, even if she wanted nothing more.

He had a new pain to bear now, different from the pain in his feet that lingered years after the bones were broken. The pain of being so close, but so far, from the woman he loved.

But he would endure it gladly. Because the sorrow he'd feel watching her as she moved on was paltry compared to the agony of not having her in his life at all.


End file.
